


Put Creases in the Rain

by WritingQuill



Series: Prompts et al [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Indie Music, M/M, Prompt Fic, References to Arctic Monkeys, Snogging, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingQuill/pseuds/WritingQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>John Watson would be the first to admit that the resemblance to Alex Turner was the first thing that attracted him to Sherlock Holmes.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>written for <a href="http://ewmartin.tumblr.com/">ewmartin</a> on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Creases in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> So [ewmartin](http://ewmartin.tumblr.com/) asked me to write something with teenlock snogging and I just couldn't pass on the chance of writing indie!Johnlock kissing to Arctic Monkeys. 
> 
> The title is from the song "Suck It and See", and the lyrics at the end are from "Brick by Brick", both from the album _Suck It and See_.

It was late afternoon, but the sun still shone bright through the half-closed shades of the large Victorian windows, which were half-opened to let the cool summer breeze in. It was the smallest bedroom in the house, but still quite sizeable, and good enough for a seventeen year-old boy who really just spent his time lying in bed with his headphones plugged to the vintage-looking Crosley turntable record player. On the walls there were pictures and posters of The Smiths, Noah & the Whale, Belle & Sebastian, Miles Kane, The Libertines… Enough really that every time his father walked in the room, he rolled his eyes and walked right back out again. Over his bed, right next to the window, standing proud, there was a large poster of the Arctic Monkeys, Alex Turner in the front, wearing his leather jacket like he was born in it, looking nearly delectable in those skinny jeans and dark hair slicked back. 

John Watson would be the first to admit that the resemblance to Alex Turner (and Charlie Fink a little bit — God, those _curls_ ) was the first thing that attracted him to Sherlock Holmes. They’d met at a concert right before the summer holidays began. Bill’s band had been playing the SoapBox that night, and the venue was packed, not only with kids from their school, but also from all over town. During the ten-minute break, John had gone to the bar to get something to drink and accidentally bumped into Sherlock, who had his curls styled in perfect Noah & the Whale form, and wore dark skinny jeans, DMs and a plain white T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to accentuate his biceps. For a few seconds, John couldn’t look away, and from then on he’d been gone. 

Now, four months later, they found themselves, yet again, tangled on top of John’s covers. Sherlock’s head rested on John’s pillow, his curls forming a halo around his head which betrayed how devious he truly was. John had given up supporting himself on his elbows, and so their bare chests touched as they kissed. Even though the room was a bit colder now than it had been when John opened the windows two hours ago, neither of them missed the shirts that were now lying on the floor, abandoned next to their shoes and socks. 

John sucked on Sherlock’s lower lip, earning himself a delicious moan from that gorgeous throat. Sherlock ran a hand across John’s back, scratching him with his fingernails, and John groaned, then pressed closer, their flushed chests were warm, far too warm, not warm enough. His jaw hurt from kissing and yet he couldn’t get enough of it, only growing more passionate, more urgent, sloppier, messier. Their tongues were hot as their tasted and sucked. And soon John could not wait any longer, he had to taste the skin on that neck. 

As Alex Turner’s mellow voice sang through the speakers, gentle, sensual, oh-so-slow, John made his move, licking and nibbling his way from Sherlock’s lips — which were beautifully heart-shaped and also bruised from John’s ministrations — to his jawline, where the skin was soft and warm, and tasted of the alcohol from Sherlock’s cologne and the salt from his sweat, that beautiful mixture that John’s tongue had learnt to recognise as _Sherlock_. From there, John nibbled at his earlobe, sucking lightly, being encouraged by Alex’s voice “suck it and see”, “ suck it and see”; and so he did. He sucked and sucked, and saw Sherlock trembled underneath him, squirm in that delightful way he did right before he pulled John’s pants off and they started a completely different game. He sucked some more, then ran his tongue across the arc of Sherlock’s ear, which was round, pink and surprisingly cold. John smirked when he bit lightly at it and Sherlock whimpered. 

‘John…’ Sherlock panted, pressing him against his chest with more force, turning his head so that their mouths met again, and it was getting truly really hot now, it would just not do. As they kissed again, with renewed passion, though their lips were nearly numb by now, John’s hand skirted its way to Sherlock’s flies. He needed to get those jeans off immediately. Sherlock seemed to realise what he was doing, and his hands soon started to help, scrambling to get John’s jeans open and off. The song ended, but John didn’t care about the one that followed, because Sherlock was making beautiful noises and he was so warm, it was all he could do bef— 

‘John, it’s almost time for tea, is Sherlock staying over?’ asked Mum’s voice from the other side of the door. The boys stopped what they were doing immediately, and John groaned. He rested his forehead on Sherlock’s shoulder and felt disheartened as his boyfriend’s hands slipped out of his pants. 

‘John!’ 

‘Yes, Mum, thanks!’ John all but shrieked. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. Sherlock was giggling under him, and John nearly punched him. ‘Shut up, you tit!’ 

‘But… your voice…’ Sherlock began, but now he was laughing properly, clutching his belly and barking with that low baritone of his. John would have been overjoyed at the sight had he not still been mortified by the experience. 

‘You’re impossible,’ John muttered, then sat up on the bed and looked around for his shirt. Sherlock stopped laughing and sat next to him. He enveloped John in a side-embrace and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

‘But you like me anyway,’ he said. John smiled, looking at his bookshelf in front of him rather than at his boyfriend. 

‘I do,’ he said. Sherlock rested his curly head on John’s shoulder. 

‘You even love me, I think.’ 

‘Maybe.’ 

‘Hm,’ Sherlock hummed and nuzzled at John’s neck. ‘Good.’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

John grinned and turned to watch Sherlock’s face which was half-hidden, but his wide smile could still be visible. ‘You’re an idiot.’ 

‘Hm.’ 

John smiled again and kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose. The speaker sang to them, “I’m gonna reconstruct, I wanna feel you love”, and they tried to look presentable before going downstairs for tea.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thanks for reading x
> 
> P.S. as per usual, you are more than welcome welcome to hit my [ask box](http://writingquill.tumblr.com/ask) with any prompts or ideas for fics!


End file.
